The Blade of the Crow
Usually,
the crow
sails effortlessly
as a dark blade
through the other side
of the welcoming heart
the side that keeps us honest
the facet of darkness
that thinks, simply,
of frozen carrion
of noisy, retchy
gatherings
of rumpled flight
of the vital and
desperate beast
within
But this morning,
with every inch of
outside
glittering in the sunrise
of a dazzling ice storm
with every inch of
inside
gasping for
more of
this astonishing crackling radiance
this shimmering amnesia of the oblique,
the crow finds
no welcome as
a blackenend matte smudge
on a glossy
world
—Katrin Talbot, Madison, WI
